


Keep Bleeding 'Till Your Heart Goes Numb

by Grigori_girl



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Execution, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Soul Eater Angst Week 2015
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:18:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grigori_girl/pseuds/Grigori_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mish-mash of drabbles for 2015's Soul Eater Angst Week</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One; The First Time I Saw You Cry

Soul remembers the first time he'd ever saw her cry very, very clearly.

They were only kids when they first paired up. She seemed to know everything—about the monsters and the witches, the ins and outs of Shibusen, even the best pizza joints in town (The Evil Olive, by the way, has _the_ best slice of pepperoni pizza in Nevada)—while he only knew how to play the piano and doubt himself. She was sure footed and confident in everything she did, she talked to everyone without a care in the world and she could just as easily slice a monster in half. For a long time, he was half convinced that she wasn’t human- that there was no way there could be someone so completely put together at all times. Once they moved in together, though...well, he finally began to see how unperfect she was. Of course, to someone on the outside looking in, there was nothing to be seen that was out of the ordinary. Maka did her routine meticulously—dinner, dishes, shower, homework, bed, then up at the crack of dawn to get his lazy ass up and get to school. _He_ complained. There were too many stairs and it was too hot and the sun hurt his sensitive eyes, but she had taken it all in stride. She let him complain without saying a word to the point where he made it a mission to find what got under her skin. He became desperate in his prepubescent, one-track mind to find out what it would take to make Maka Albarn crack.

At school, she’s almost vomit-inducingly _nice._ She takes perfect notes and she’ll give away smiles like their going out of style. On the training grounds, she’s firm but she doesn’t yell, and for some reason Soul feels like that’s a new development. She’ll disappear for an hour or so after training, sweat-soaked and tired, but happy nonetheless. He offers to go with her, wherever it is she goes off to, because his mother raised him right and letting a girl walk home alone at night was _not_ an option, but she always declined and he felt that she could handle herself. When she comes home, the bags beneath her eyes seems to have darkened but she gives him a small smile anyway as she lugs another garbage bag of things to her room and drags herself to the shower. He realizes she must go back to her parent’s place to pick up more of her things, but he isn’t sure what makes her look so tired and upset. Probably her dad, that man has given him more headaches in the short time that they’ve been partners than he’s had in his entire life.

He’s almost two weeks into his little game when she breaks, and it isn’t pretty. He tried leaving his dirty clothes strewn about the apartment in a warpath to his bedroom door, she had been mildly irked at the display, and he could see the clear annoyance in her eyes, but she’d only asked him politely to at least keep his mess confined to his room. He tried eating all of her favorite foods, making a point to leave the dishes and wrappings in plain view for her to see, and she had only been ruffled and red in the face from the act, lightly berating him and saying she’ll just start buying double of everything. He’d hit paydirt when he made a not-so-teasing comment after an especially reckless mission, Maka coming back with more than a few nasty cuts, bruises, and a cracked rib- not to mention the fact that she almost lost her foot to a stray claw. He was worried and irritated, sharp teeth grit as he watched her peel off her coat with a barely concealed grimace. She tried to make a joke out of it, saying that is could always have been worse, but he didn’t want to make light out of the fact that she threw them into needless danger.

“Don’t try to make a joke out of this!” He’d said with a venom that took her by surprise, blonde brows tilting up in surprise as she sunk onto the couch to try to peel off her muddy boots.

She didn’t look at him as she fiddled with the buckles and belts, “Why not? Neither of us died and the mission was a success, I’d say that’s reason enough to be in a good mood-”

“You could’ve lost your damn _foot_ just like how you’ve obviously lost your _mind_! How could you ever think that throwing yourself into a bearhug with a kishin could ever, and I mean _ever,_ be okay?!”

Her boots slam to the floor, their removal forgotten as mud flings across the throw rug and wood. “First of all, I needed to get close to him to go any real damage! You seen how his arms were armored! Secondly, who the hell do you think you are to tell me how to fight kishin?!”

“Your _partner_!” He seethes, hands fisting in his gelled white hair as his teeth grind in frustration. “Jesus, if this is how it’s going to be, then maybe I _should_ listen to BlackStar and team up with that girl from NOT, at least _she’d_ listen to me!” Soul’s chest heaves as he glares at the floor, the cuffs of his red jeans darkened and muddy just like his shoes, and for a moment he mourns for the once pristine shine that his beloved shoes had one held. There was no way he could get all of that dirt out of the laces and stitchings—his mental tangent cut short as he heard a sniffle, and his gaze snapped up to his mesiter’s face. She must’ve tugged her pigtails free because her hair hung in a curtain around her face, her hands fisted in the fabric of her skirt as her shoulders shake. “Maka?”

“That’s all you men ever think of, isn’t it?” She whispered lowly, voice thick with unshed tears and Soul immediately feels confused. Only ever think of what? Her head snapped up, green eyes wet and blazing, face flushed and her lips set in a quivering line. “I knew pairing with you was a horrible idea!” She screams it, and he can tell that she means it. His so carefully built walls crumbled with a single sentence and he feels an arrow of hurt pierce his heart. All of his bravado and apparent cool crash and burn and he feels the doubt and pain start creeping back into his thoughts. He feels as if he’d been thrown back in time to his parent’s kitchen as they tell him that his music is too scary and strange to play for others. Soul feels himself drawing away, he feels her drawing away. They’re both half a second away from cutting off their resonance completely, and he never expected to feel so wounded. Never had he considered that breaking Maka Albarn would mean breaking himself, too.

“You never wanted to pair with me?” He murmurs, eyes downcast and his fingers tapping against his pant leg.

“No,” She spits the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “Because I _know_ how you men are. _All of you!_ You’re all nothing but a bunch of cheaters who’ll leave as soon as the next pair of tits come along and how am I ever supposed to _trust_ you when all you do is leave!?” Soul feels a cold sweep down his spine as a sob breaks from her throat, and he looks up just in time to see her press her filthy gloved hands to her face as she openly cries. Suddenly, he gets a feeling that this wasn’t about him at all.

He carefully steps toward her, face drawn up in concern rather than hurt. “Maka?” He asks gently, quietly. “What’s really going on?” Maka’s breath stutters as she curls in on herself, drawing away from his reaching hand, but he only follows her, hesitating for a moment before pulling her into his chest. She freezes, and he fears that he’s made a grave mistake and prepares himself for her to behead him or worse, but she grips the faux leather of his letterman jacket and presses her face into his t-shirt. He feels awkward, but he also feels as if this is what partners are really for. He also can’t deny the fact that the contact feels sort of nice after almost dying. Soul feels her tears soak into his shirt, and he’s suddenly paralyzed by the fact that this is the first time he’s ever seen her cry. He’s seen her take a direct punch to the nose from BlackStar without so much as blinking, and yet this argument as shaken her to tears. “What’s going on?”

“My parents are getting a divorce.” She chokes out onto his chest, voice watery and for the first time ever, very unsteady. “I know it probably sounds dumb, getting all worked up like this, but _all_ they ever do is fight and my mom keeps trying to bring me into it and I’m just so _tired_ of always arguing.” His arms tighten around her a fraction as he chews on his cheek. He’s never really had to deal with his parents fighting, they always seemed happy enough to him and most of the yelling was directed at him and Wes for doing something or other.

“It’s not dumb,” He murmurs into her hair, the smell of blood and dirt invading his senses. She goes quiet for a moment or two, the only sounds in their apartment being the distant hum of the refrigerator and her soft sniffles. He waits for her to calm down, hands absently rubbing soothing circles into her back, fingers bumping over the ridges of her spine. Soul feels something shift inside him, the sudden wave of fierce protectiveness for his meister is totally uncalled for and it finally hits him in full just what their partnership is and what it means.

They put their _lives_ on the line for each other. They’re only _twelve_ and fight monsters and there are magical beings that actively want them _dead_ and every day they go to a school filled with people and other children that can turn into _deadly weapons_ and they answer to an actual _god of death_. There’s _way_ too much talk of death in their everyday lives for him to be comfortable with but...here he is; living in Death City, far away from his family and their music, putting his life on the line at least once a week just because of a fluke in his genes and his desire to be his own person. _She_ accepted his music with a smile and applause, even if she didn’t really understand music, she said she loved it. He doesn’t think he could find a better partner if he tried. Maka, on the other hand, was _made_ for this, literally. Her dad is the leading Deathscythe of North America and her mom is supposedly one of the best meisters the academy has seen. It’s mind boggling to him that she can stare down a six armed monster with steel spikes sticking from it’s spine without so much as blinking, but such a mundane thing as divorce is what will bring her to tears.

Maka finally calms, but his hands don’t stop their ministrations on her back, and she remains pressed into his chest, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry,” She whispers after a moment, fingers digging fractionally deeper into the fabric of his jacket. “I didn’t mean what I said..about pairing up with you.” He knows she did, but he can’t find it in himself to call her on it. Hell, he had his own reservations, he still does. He knows he’s the reason they’re struggling with resonance, because he’s still insecure and the thought of letting someone get so close is _terrifying._

“I know. I didn’t mean what I said about finding a new partner, either.” They lapse into silence again, and the mud in his shoes and between his toes is finally beginning to drive him insane. So, he leans back a little bit, trying to catch her gaze as he cocks his head with a small smile. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Maka’s mouth screws up a little, but she shakes her head, releasing his jacket and stepping away as she wipes at her eyes, smudging blood and dirt from her gloves onto her cheeks. “Maybe later, yeah? I think I just want to take a shower and go to bed.” He nods and she gives him a sheepish smile as she turns and takes off towards their bathroom, leaving a trail of half-dried mud in her wake. Soul shakes his head as he shucks off his jacket, tosses it over the arm of their ragged red couch, and moves to find the broom, figuring that sweeping up their mess was the least he could do for the coolest partner ever.


	2. Day Two; Nightmares

It's probably safe to say that after the battle on the moon, most those who were there are now plagued by nightmares. Ask any of them, and they would say that a 'few bad dreams' were a small price to pay to keep the world from plunging head-first into madness, but they're much more than that. The dreams are traces of madness themselves. They show their victim exactly what could've gone wrong if they'd been so much as five feet from their friends and partners.

That being said, no one was really spared from the dreams. Especially not the new God of Death.

* * *

He tries to avoid sleep. He's a god, after all, shouldn't never sleeping or eating become part of the package? Unfortunately, he still feels hunger pangs and his eyelids feel as if someone had attached weights to them. Maybe he just hasn't cracked the code yet, or maybe he and his father were much more different than he originally thought.

Nonetheless, he forced himself to stay awake for days on end, filling the nights with endless paperwork and even going as far trying to play video games. Eventually, he broke, and fell asleep at his desk in the Death Room, the puffy white clouds floating across the forever blue walls. A mere two hours later, Liz is shaking him awake, unsticking a property damage bill from his cheek as she hefts him from his seat. "C'mon, Kiddo. Let's go home."

Despite his various attempts at protests, his weapon didn't listen, and Patty met them at the door to help carry him home. "Honestly, you two, I'm fine.

”You're exhausted because you're trying to hide," Patty mutters, shifting his calves in her hands as the begin down the staircase. He only sighs in acceptance. They're right, as they usually are. He may be a god, but the nightmares feel too real for him to bear. There's too much on his plate for him to juggle, he can't deal with a black moon and rampant madness on top of nightmares that would scare the scarves off of his brother.

The girls get him to the bottom of the staircase surprisingly fast. They deem him stable enough to stand on his own, and thereby drop him on his ass. With a roll of his eyes, he stands and produces Belzebub with a flick of his wrist. Liz and Patty transform into his awaiting hands, and they take off towards home, a thin trail of magic residue snaking behind them in the night. 

* * *

 

They're home again and Gallows Manor is dark, the lights are off and the doors are locked, which is a new development. By no means are they people to fear burglars, but after Medusa fooling them into thinking she was dead, they feel a tad bit safer knowing that the entryways are shut up tight.

Up the grand staircase and around the curving halls, behind the eighth black door, is Kid's room. He sleeps fitfully, white encircled hair splayed over his pillow and plastered to his face in cold sweat. The silken sheets are tangled around his long legs and he shifts restlessly, eyes scrunching and brow furrowing in his sleep. He jerks suddenly upright with a breathless cry, the palm of his hand glowing purple with the magic that he no longer needs his rings to control. A soft knock sounds at his door, and it seems to creak open in slow motion. Kid aims his hand at the threshold, his tired mind groggy and panicked, still wrapped in the throws of nightmares. Patty's head pops in, the dim glow of the hall light backlighting her features, and Kid is so startled, he almost releases the ball of energy. Slowly, he lowers his hand, the glow blinking out as Liz's head pops in above her sister's.

Wordlessly, they give each other a glance, then slither in almost silently, the door clicking shut softly behind them. They pad across the polished marble of his floor, faces shrouded in darkness, although he can see them as if they were in broad daylight. For a moment, he fears that this is another nightmare, the lingering madness from The Book of Eibon twisting his most beloved into into horrible creatures that’ll destroy them with sinister smiles on their faces. Luckily, that doesn’t happen. Liz and Patty merely crawled onto his bed, hands and knees sinking into the foam until they both settle on either side of him, wrapping their arms around him without a pause. “What’re-?”

“Shh,” Patty muttered sleepily, cheek squished against his bicep as she leaned heavily on him, already on the verge of sleep.

“We saw your dreams.” Liz yawned, her cheek resting atop his head as she gave him another squeeze. “We ended up resonating when we were all asleep.”

“I didn’t know we could do that.” Patty said, her head tilted so that her chin is resting on his arm as she looked up at him with pale blue eyes.

“I didn’t either,” He murmured back with a small yawn, surprisingly warm and comfy despite his arms being pinned in the embrace. “Really, though. You two can go back to bed, don’t worry about me.”

They both shook their head simultaneously, hugging him closer. “Not a chance, Kiddo.”

“That’s a negative, ghost rider.”  Patty said with a small smile.

With very little coaxing, the girls managed to get him to lay back down, each of them snuggling into his sides easily as he relaxed into his sheets. As the trio’s breathing began to even, Kid smiled softly down at his weapons, once again reminded how much h truly needs them. “Thank you, you two.” Liz and Patty’s blue eyes graced him again as they mirrored his smile, both pistols leaning up to press chaste kisses to his cheeks before settling back down with sleepily murmured ‘goodnights’.

Lulled back to the edge of sleep with the harmonious sounds of his weapons breathing and the steady thrum of their souls snuggled next to his own, Kid allowed himself to drift off again, the rest of the night remaining blissfully free of nightmares, all thanks to the most incredible partners a god could ask for.


	3. Day Five; Orders Are Orders

It's late in the evening when a harsh knock sounds at their door, their faces scrunching up in confusion as a voice barks at them through the worn wood, claiming to be government officials. Soul jokingly asks her who she pissed off this time, but instead of humor, she feels a tight knot of dread settle in her stomach. She stands from the couch and allows their shared blanket to pool on the floor, gooseflesh prickles on her legs as she pads to the door, mind running through the recent political tension.

She opens the door with a polite, if shaky, smile. Three men are gathered in the hall, clunky bulletproof vests strapped over their clothes and long black rifles gripped in their hands. "Maka Albarn?" One man asks, his comrades raising their guns to allow the little red beams to settle on her chest as she nods uncertainly. "We're here to collect any weapons you might have in your possession."

She stares at the red dots hovering over the ring on the chain hanging from her throat. Her mother's ring isn't doing much to protect her from danger, she thinks. "Um, I don't have any guns or anything. I might have some kitchen knives, if you'd like those." They give her unamused looks, and move to bully their way past her. Soul is suddenly behind her, glaring at the men with bloody eyes and a sharp toothed growl. One swallows audibly, and Maka feels a small pang of pride at the fear her boyfriend can induce with a look alone. "What's the meaning of this?" She asks calmly, and she's sure that unsettles them more than if she would have broken down into hysterics.

“We have a warrant to seize all weapons within the city," The leader begins, sweat glistening on his brow beneath his clunky helmet. "It's signed off by your so-called 'God'." The venom in his voice is palpable, and Maka wonders at its origin. She can't think of a time when Lord Death had ever hurt a human, but when the implementation hits her, she feels a sharp pain in her chest and she has to look down to confirm she hadn't been shot.

"He-he what?" She whispered, hands clutching the doorframe so hard it creaks, and one of the beams races from her chest to her hand as one of the soldiers jerk in fear. They're jumpy and nervous, they were never trained to battle the same way Death Children were. She dimly thinks of how they can use this to their advantage, but right now she's being crushed by tides of betrayal. How could Lord Death do this? After all she and every other weapon/meister pair had done for him.

"Yeah," The one with his gun still aimed at her chest sneered, his ugly face screwing up to mock her pain and her god. "Your precious little 'god' can't save you. So hand it over." He says, jerking the barrel in Soul's direction. Her face darkens in anger, her hand reaching behind her to grab his hand.

She steps back into his chest, continuing to walk until he gets the point to move back into the apartment. She squeezes his hand as the soldiers move to come in, and he takes the hint, transforming in her hand. Two of them scream while another's face loses all color, their earpieces alighting with chatter as she widens her stance with a ready grin. One of the soldiers let's his gun hang from its carrying strap, hands held up complacently. "Look, we don't want a fight, but we need that weapon of yours. There's been commands from the president that warrant their execution and we're just-"

"What?" She whispers, the horror in her voice is enough to make them send questioning glances at one another. "Lord Death would never allow..." Maka feels a sob bubble up in her throat, and she chokes on the feeling, eyes looking at Soul's face in the reflection on his blade. He's pale and his jaw is working as if he were physically chewing on this new knowledge. His soul snuggles next to hers comfortingly, and she can't help but think how wrong and backwards all of this is. Her initial horror quickly turns to anger, as her fear usually does, and her grip tightens on his shaft. "If it weren't for us, this entire planet would be drowning in madness!" She yells, tears of fear and anger springing to her eyes. " _We're_ the reason you're all _alive_ right now!"

Confusion passes over the men's features just as Lord Death's mask appears in the mirror beside the door. "Now, Maka, just listen to them and everything will be alright. I've already turned over my own weapon-"

With an outraged screech she crashed Soul's blade into the glass, the pieces shattering and flying, scattering over the wooden floor. The action scared the soldiers so badly, they again trained their weapons on her chest and forehead. She grit her teeth and threw herself at the living room's windows, bullets trailing behind her to nestle into the walls and blow through their TV screen. "You ready?" She asks a half second before she crashes through the glass and launches herself from the fire escape, going into a freefall from four stories up. With the practiced ease of someone who's used to jumping from dangerous heights, she manages to get Soul beneath her feet, sharp and feathery wings sprouting beside his gold rimmed eye.

They take to the air as the men scramble onto the fire escape, wide-eyed and slack jawed. The leader mutters something into his com, too facinated at the display to give a real reply. As Maka and Soul fly off, she asks him to use Soul Hack with all the weapons and meisters in the city, her perception blowing wide as she searches. Her knees feel like buckling as she looks over the city, over her home. So used to seeing thousands of weapon and meister souls with her perception, so used to finding comfort in their presence, she feels sick at their sudden absence. She tries turning it off and back on again, only to find the same results. The human souls she finds don't comfort her. If anything, they make her angry. She looks again, and finds them all gathered at Shibusen, a large blob of blue clustering at the academy. With a slight tilt of her body, they fly off to the school, intent on finding out just what the hell is going on.

* * *

They're swooping into Shibusen's air space when she hears a whistling, moving just in time to avoid the flying metal net, electricity crackling over the material. "What-?!" She looks down, and there are more men in the bulletproof vests and black clothing gathered atop the massive staircase, long tube-like things in their hands. Maka curses, her bare feet balanced carefully on the warm metal of Soul's scythe. "What the hell is going on here?" She murmurs more to herself than to Soul. Another net whizzes their way, and they spend the next ten minutes trying to dodge the volley of traps, but she's just a second too slow, and the last one catches her arm. Once the edge of the net touches her skin, she's sent into convolutions, the electric current passing through her and into Soul. With a cry, he's torn from his weapon form, and the net immediately attaches to his skin and wraps the two up in a painful bunch, once again throwing them into a freefall. The electrocution doesn't stop, and somewhere in her frying brain, the feeling reminds her of being tased. Although, being tased was a much better experience.

They continue to fall, convulsing savagely as the wind whistles past their ears. They both black-out before they reach the ground. Maka can't help but feel that falling to her death at the hands of ignorant humans was a shitty way to go, all that's considering.

* * *

She drifts back to consciousness an inconceivable amount of time later, her entire body sore and her brain feeling fried. Someone jostles her,  her knees slam onto something hard and she automatically tries to slump to the floor. Someone barks something, and they land a solid kick to her side. Her breath leaves her in a rush and her eyes finally open, her gaze pinwheeling for something to land on. Her arms are pinned behind her back, and when she tries to move them, the cool metal tells her she's handcuffed. Her eyes finally land on the person kneeling next to her. "Kid," she wheezes, memories of the evening rushing back full force. Judging by the angle of the panting sun still sitting in the sky, she wasn't out for long.

“No talking!" The voice barks again, and she watches as a black boot rushes at her stomach. Maka heaves and gags, gasping for air as Kid watches with apologetic eyes. She can feel the hurt and anger and betrayal simmering in his soul, and she instinctively reaches out to him with her own. He accepts her resonance, and she realizes she must be late to the party. The kick-happy soldier grabs her shoulders and forces her to kneel beside Kid, her bare knees digging into the rough concrete. She tests the chain, and is surprised at who all she finds. BlackStar, Kilik, Ox, Kim, Sid, Stein, Akane, Anya, Meme- she leans forward to look down the line, meeting eyes with each of her fellow meisters. BlackStar's eye is swelled shut. Stein's eyes are blackening and his glasses are missing, dried blood covers his nose, mouth, and chin- staining the collar of his shirt. Kilik has an open gash on his forehead and his lip is split. Ox's glasses are also gone and his nose is bloodied and crooked. Kim's hair is messy and displaced, a large chunk missing and matted with blood. Akane's eye is swelled shut as well. Meme and Anya's eyes are swollen and puffy, more from crying than fighting, she assumes, but Meme's arm is twisted at such and angle it might be broken, and as Anya spits at the feet of a passing guard, Maka notices that she's missing a tooth. As for Sid, he's...well, he's still pretty much dead.

She hears a familiar pained grunt, and her head snaps up, finally looking at the space across from her, only to find all the weapon partners to the meisters at her side. Her breath catches in her chest and she feels like she can't breath. She can't force the air into her lungs as she looks at Soul across from her, a dangerous collar around his throat much like the one they had forced onto Eruka way back when they saved Kid from The Book of Eibon. To Soul's left sits Liz and Patty, their arms bound behind their back and collars gleaming around their throats. Her heart aches as she looks at them, and Patty manages a grim smile in her direction. And to Soul's right...kneels her father, a curtain of red hair shielding his face as he bows low in defeat. Maka struggles against her cuffs, eyes welling with tears as her guard presses their boot into her back in attempt to keep her still, "Papa! Papa!"

His head snaps up, and his eyes widen, "Maka?" She struggles under the pressure of the boot, trying her hardest to break free. "Maka!" A soldier stops behind him and presses the barrel of his gun to the back of his head, cocking the hammer back with his thumb.

"No. Talking." He growls, face hard and unyielding. "Understand?" Simultaneously, both Albarns slump, their loose hair hiding their faces as they sob to their knees. Her soul reaches for his at same time his reaches for hers, and soon, all weapons and meisters are connected in one giant Chain Resonance. Maka's gaze finally leaves her father and her partner, tailing down the line and feeling her stomach sink lower and lower the farther she goes.

Tsubaki is battered and bruised, her hair tangled and blowing in the slight wind, matted in places with drying blood. Beside her are the twins, small and huddled together as they cry softly, hands cuffed and deadly collars hugging their necks. Harvar is as stoic as ever, but tear marks snake down his cheeks and it looks as if he's taken a bullet to his shoulder. Jackie's hair looks as if it's been chopped off with a knife, the ends jagged and uneven, much like the nasty slice weeping from her cheek. Nygus is covered in what looks to be stabs and slices, her skin is pale from what Maka assumes is blood loss, and her eyes are haunted. Next to her...is Marie, uncomfortably kneeling, her stomach is large, and Maka remembers that she's due in less than a week. The blood soaking the fabric covering her stomach is stained with blood, and Maka feels panic claw its way up her throat, her mind desperately trying to convince her that it's not hers. Clay and Tsugumi are last in line, looking thoroughly beaten and righteously pissed. Maka thinks she might throw up.

An eerie silence settles as the soldiers all stop their pacing, one officer striding forward to stand behind Soul with his hands clasped behind his back. "Now, I know you all must be wondering what you're doing here, and what exactly is going to happen to all of you. Well, the answer is simple. You're all dangerous criminals, a danger to this country and it's people, and so we have been dispatched in order to... _dispose_ of you." A collective shudder of outrage and fear ripples through their shared resonance. The meisters want to leap to their weapon's aid, but Kid encourages them to wait for the opportune moment. "You all have been selected purely because you would cause us more trouble than necessary. The others will be given a chance to either work for us, or share the same fate as you. Because we are kind and gracious people, we've decided to only get rid of the real danger. That being," he brings his hand from behind his back, a large pistol, not unlike Liz and Patty, sitting snugly in his grip, and he gestures to the line of weapons before him. “ _These_ things." Maka's teeth grit in anger, and she watches as all the weapons in question growl in contempt.

The soldier looks thoughtful, tapping the barrel of his gun to his chin as he looks over those kneeled before him. "I think I'll start with..." He glances between each pair, wicked glee visible on his face as he basks in the anger and fear of those he has captured. His glance finally settles on Maka, lips curling up in a disgustingly giddy smile.

Never in her life has she wanted to kill a human more.

"This one." He said simply, pressing the cool metal into the back of Soul's head.

Maka immediately surges forward, eyes wide in desperation. " _No!"_ He cocks the hammer back smoothly, grin widening. "No! No, please! Please, please don't!" She couldn't wait any longer. Fuck Kid's plan. She wouldn't just sit by as Soul was murdered until Kid found a way out of this. This wasn't a trail, he couldn't sweet talk them like he could the witches.

This was an execution.

Maka snaps the little chain between her cuffs easily, lurching from her crouch to throw herself at the evil man. Her perception may say his soul is a pure blue, but she's also been taught to do the bidding of the god of death. Just as she's about to reach him, reach Soul, an ear shattering _bang_ sounds in her ears. She feels something hot and wet splatter against her face. She doesn't, she _can't_ believe her eyes. Soul's body slumps forward into a lifeless heap, blood pooling around his head and staining his hair. "Orders are orders," the man says with a vicious smile and a false sweet tone.

Something within Maka _snaps._ Perhaps it's her hold on sanity, that seems the most logical.

The sound she makes cannot be described. It's heartbroken and angry and _shattered._ She launches herself at the soldier, Soul Force crackling to life on her hands for the first time ever. She tackles him to the ground, his head cracking against the concrete as her soul twists and shakes, trying to tear itself apart to escape the sudden pain and _emptiness_ that it feels. Her hands fit snugly around his throat, her knees digging into his shoulders and her toes press into the rough ground beneath them. His body convulses with the power of her soul being forced into it, but she doesn't let up her hold. If anything, she digs her fingers in deeper, relishing in the way he gasps beneath her, begging for air the same way she had begged him to spare Soul.

She doesn't pay any mind to what's happening around her. None of that matters right now. What matters, is the single minded _need_ she has to kill this man. To _destroy_ him. She wonders dimly if this is how Professor Stein used to feel.

Maka's fingers dig ever deeper into the soft flesh of his neck, and she realizes just how fragile regular humans are. He gasps again, the sound ragged as he repeats the word 'please' like a mantra, begging for his life. She leans down close to his ear, hands releasing his throat to gently grasp the sides of his head, Soul's blood finally reaching her bare feet, the feeling sending new shockwaves of anger and brokenness through her soul. "Orders are orders." She whispers. Her hands give the man's head a savage twist, the feeling of his neck snapping not enough to satisfy the indescribable pain in her chest.

She was taught to unquestioningly do the bidding of the god of death.

She thinks it's time for her to decide who's to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting them out of order, because as of now, only days 1,2, and 5 are completed.


End file.
